


Case Closed

by RadScavver



Series: The Sole Survivor [10]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 11:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18387839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadScavver/pseuds/RadScavver
Summary: It's early morning in the Commonwealth, and she rises with the sun.





	Case Closed

Nora blinks, squinting through the morning fog.

“Nick?”

Of all the things she could expect of a morning in Goodneighbor, Detective Nick Valentine smoking outside the town hall door isn’t one of them. The detective jumps, cigarette falling from skeletal fingers to be smashed under his heel. She arches a brow. He’d never been one for skittish behavior. Before she can ask, he’s lurching forward and sweeping her into a hug. Pressed tight to his chest, the subtle susurrus of his inner workings a lullaby in her ear, she feels like ants have rooted under her skin. The need to fight is suddenly all her bleary mind can comprehend. To bite, to claw, to punch. Anything to break out of too strong arms penning her in, making her easy prey to any waiting for an opening.

But it all stills when the synth speaks.

“You’ve got no idea how good it is to see you, kid.”

It’s a balm to the frantic animal instinct clawing under her ribs. His flesh hand smooths her hair like she’s something precious, someone to be cherished. She feels like a bristled cat, embarrassed by her own reaction to something so harmless, yet she can’t deny how much she’s missed simple affection. God, it’s so good to see Nick again. But…

“How did you know where I was?”

Chuckling, lips a butterfly stroke atop her head without the breath to accompany it, Nick releases her. She doesn’t miss the flicker of those glowing eyes as she all too eagerly steps back beyond the door frame. A thought of shame strikes at her, sparking and hot. She ignores it. He adjusts his coat, an easy casual tug of lapels that reminds her of days crawling through rubble and dodging gunfire with little more than the smell of smoke on the breeze and old world snark echoing in her ears.

“John sent for me,” he answers. “None of those Minutemen lackeys will so much as look an old dick’s way since the Rebellion. You’d best get ready, though. I doubt I’m the only one he told.”

“Damn that ghoul straight to the Sea and back.”

There’s no heat in her voice. How can she be angry when the tears that burn her eyes are welling from joy? Well, joy and a spark of exhausted fondness for a certain freckled animal lover. She should’ve known Rads would’ve gotten word to John. Too many late night confession to loneliness, betrayal. Nights of broken sleep and delirious wishes to be back with those special few. Nora had mourned for what she’d lost in the crucible of her Overboss reign; Rads and James had let her with nothing but heartfelt comfort in mind.

“You owe an old synth a report, greenhorn,” Nick barks, startling her from a dizzying mental drop.

She glances around, hoping that something will give her a clue. There’s an uneasy flutter in the base of her throat.

“What report?”

“The case of the missing detective, of course! You’re a damn good fighter, you proved that in our times together, so I want to know how _you_ managed to disappear for so long. And don’t think I’m not going to rip you a new one for stealing my act, kid!”

Nora’s laughter is loud and abrupt. It catches her by surprise, leaving her wide-eyed and gawking at an equally stunned synth. A helpless giggle bubbles up, rolling over her tongue and off her lips. Tickles like champagne fizz. Growing and growing until it bursts and she’s wild with it. Head tossed back, tears streaming from the eyes, cheeks blooming roses. Nick’s own chuckling is barely a whisper under hers.

“Easy there, we still have work to do,” he chides, even though it’s easy to hear his amusement. “I’ve got a new case, hot off the press. You think you’re up for it, partner?”

Eyes wild, brilliant, she flashes him a grin. He remembers a day: sunny, surprisingly void of fighting, and a woman with hair like melted chocolate perched atop a rusted out jungle gym. A day when the world almost spun like it did before the bombs dropped.

“Detective Nora reporting for duty, Valentine. What’ve you got for me?”

He pulls out a manilla folder, offering it like a treat. “Got a missing person out by the Slog. Something about the hot-headed weirdos making trouble for a farm nearby.   
Think this is up to your speed, Detective Houdini?”

Nora gasps in mock offense, but darts out to snatch up the file. The two quickly lose themselves in the details. Their voices bounce along dew-slick cobblestone, a welcome morning melody for the stirring residents of Goodneighbor.

Sitting on the spiral staircase, Hancock watches them through the still open door. His eyes are heavy-lidded with sleep...and the grin tugging his lips is almost as sweet as the warmth in his gaze.

Their Lady Justice is glowing again.


End file.
